I must have drank a lot of pain
Judging by the way it aches
Must have sold a lot of secrets.
Now everybody knows
What my soul really thinks
Of my mind's painful decisions.
My soul, reaching out in agony,
Waiting for a response from the broken clock of my consciousness
I used to tick a regular beat, a steady beat
But now it's all over the place
Some days it ticks faster than I can count, shooting me soaring into a high
Others it ticks slower, seconds turning into minutes; minutes to hours, sending me into the depths of a Hellish low.
This is known by medical professionals as bipolar disorder
But I know it simply as pain.